Anders woke up to the thin light of dawn already starting to seep in through the high bedroom windows. He groaned and pushed his face against Hawke’s side to block the light out, wriggling a little closer to him under the covers.
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Hawke said drowsily, his hand coming down to rest on the back of Anders’ neck.
“Nrgh,” Anders said. He felt like he’d only barely gotten to shut his eyes; he wasn’t sure he was ready to face consciousness yet. “What time is it?”
Hawke glanced at the window and squinted thoughtfully. “Too early?” he suggested. Since anything short of mid-day tended to be ‘too early’ for him, Anders decided to take that with a pinch of salt.
“I have to get some work done in the clinic today,” he said vaguely.
“Mhm.” The practical implications of this - that he’d have to get up, for starters - seemed highly elusive, however. Between the calm, steady beats of Hawke’s heart under his ear and the comfortable weight of sleep still anchoring his body to the bed, the logical thing should be to pass right out again. He really wished he had a better track record with logic.
He stayed there for a little longer, half-dozing against the warmth of Hawke’s body, before he finally managed to tear himself away.
“I should get to it,” he said, placing a peck to Hawke’s shoulder before sitting up.
“You did stumble in pretty late last night,” Hawke said. “Maybe you should take it easy today.”
“No,” he said, swinging his legs out over the edge of the bed and rubbing at his face, “no, there are some things I have to take care of.”
“And all of it is important enough that you have to get up with the cows to deal with it?”
“Well, since I’ve recently spent most of my days running around the Wounded Coast while you try to hold the map the right way up - ouch - “ Hawke prodded him in the back with his foot, “things tend to pile up.”
“That was once,” Hawke protested, as Anders got up and tracked down one of his socks so he wouldn’t be standing barefoot on the cold stone floor. “And I seem to remember that you weren’t exactly making yourself helpful at the time.”
Anders shrugged. “I don’t know, watching Aveline’s face grow ever redder somehow seemed more satisfying.”
“And you wonder why she doesn’t adore you.”
“I thought it was just her bright and bubbly personality shining through. Anyway, there are some people coming in today. A lot of people, come to think about it,” he added, feeling ever so slightly discouraged as he did the mental headcount. He’d be at it all day.
“Anyone I know?” Hawke had struck up quite the repartee with some of the patients at the clinic - it must be the only place in the city where he felt safe from people hurling party invitations at the Champion of Kirkwall. Even if the people of Darktown had known he was the Champion, they were mostly too busy worrying about where the next meal was coming from to care about much else.
“Well, there’s Herman. His daughter’s taking him. Again.”
“The same Herman as last time?”
“Yes. As well as the seven times before that,” he sighed. “I’m starting to think his peculiar… skin condition is just an immutable fact of the universe. I keep telling him that if he’d deign to take a bath maybe, oh, once a year he wouldn’t get these problems, but he just calls me a hack and claims washing opens the pores to ‘unhealthy airs’.”
“I don’t know, that sounds pretty medicinally sound to me,” Hawke said unsympathetically, stretching under the covers. “In a totally crazy and unfounded way, I mean.”